


Make me a bird

by Shagel



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shagel/pseuds/Shagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right after the end of the second season. Lizzie and Red are on the run and create  a completely new world good enough for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make me a bird

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter was written under the impression of a very beautiful song and it is named after it. So if you need deep impact, turn it on and enjoy. It is Elektrik People – Make me a bird.  
> I hope you`ll like it as well as the chapter.  
> If you see any mistakes, feel free to contact me, as long as English is not my native language, I`ll fix them)

Some weeks pass since the day of the abduction. Sometimes Lizzie wonders who was really taken away. She spends all this time in silence and solitude, she doesn’t watch TV, there is no internet in this huge abandoned mansion, god bless Raymond Reddington and his dislike of modern technologies. Instead of it she spends all the day strolling through the mansion, same old as everything in it, watches paintings on the walls, touches the lines of white sculptures with the tips of her fingers. Red once told her that all these beautiful smooth bodies, carved from marble, shimmering in the dim light of the fireplace, cool like the water were colorful before. But time washed away the gilding and paint; time cleaned them and left only true self. Lizzie touches her face, wondering whether the mask left her face too.

Red never happens to be at home during the day, and all the time Lizzie spends in his office, she curls with the legs in his leather chair, it`s dark red, it smells like him, she smells his sweat, she sits in it and reads a book, sometimes she turns on an old record player and chooses a random disc. Music of any choice, she thinks, dancing with Sinatra and his soft melodious words L is for the way you look at me, the choice of music discs is infinite, modern music is here too, and for the first time at this very moment Lizzie asks herself if Red somehow was able to get out of his time and live in eternity, enjoying everything, but not attached to it with grief and misery.

Sometimes she takes a bath and lays there for hours, eyes closed, until the water becomes cold, then furiously scrubs the skin with a sponge, sometimes she thinks that her reflection in the mirror is changing with every day. Old skin is always peeling off so ugly.  
Red makes her learn the lists of the most famous crime bosses by heart; he gives her piles of paper folders, files of people, and 80 percent of them she did not even know. He forces her to make psychological portraits, and every evening she spends with him, writing endlessly and recording things that may be useful in the future.  
In the future? Red mentions once that he and Sam made a trust fund in case if Lizzie had to leave the Bureau (and that`s happened in the end) and she can use the money. The sum of the money is much more than that one she would have earned during the whole life, and she doesn’t know what to do with it. She does not need anything here, now. Yet.

Lizzie is certain that the world turned into chaos now. Ressler is trying to find them. Perhaps Aram and Samar too. Dembe visits them a couple of times and tells about the process of Cooper`s justification. The second time he brings a hefty cell with her dog. Red ironically raises an eyebrow: "I'm not going to walk him. No way."  
"Don`t and you`ll become lazy and get fat." Lizzie teases him, and it takes her a few seconds to get not the meaning of the words, but the tone of them. Homely. Habitual. Too intimate. She blushes and tries to hide the embarrassment by hugging Dembe loudly, too much noisy, to be honest, the bodyguard is also embarrassed, but, thank God, understands her retreat maneuver. She doesn’t want to meet Red`s eyes.

Several times Lizzie falls asleep in his office next to him with her feet on Red`s knees, buried with files, half-dead from all these endless data, numbers, dates, and the fine print of the footnotes. She wakes up in her bedroom already, covered with blankets, and understands that every time he took her in his arms and brought here, she wonders what it would be – in his arms, but being conscious. But doesn’t take a chance. It is too early.

She no longer thinks about Tom. Until she finds at old photograph in her things, they are smiling together, it`s Christmas, they wear couple`s sweaters, her hair is long. Like it is now. The next morning she stands in front of a mirror cutting the locks carefully, to the exact level they were when she ran with Red. It's silly, but she needs some constant, and she chooses that point – the moment in the car, the pressure of her cheek to Red's shoulder and the first time for six months when she allowed herself to fall into quiet sleep. She adds the photograph to the strands of hair, and with deep satisfaction she drops a match and watches it all burns in the sink. With a terrible smell.  
The first question Red asks returning home is:  
"Did you burned and buried the dog, because he ruined my favorite rug?"  
Then he looks at Lizzie, leant against the doorjamb with a small smile and a twinkle in the corner of her eyes, he looks surprised and tsks, shaking his head.

The next day, the first time for more than 6 months the house is invaded by strangers. There is an army of hairdressers, stylists, seamstresses, they make her hair, body, manicure and pedicure in excellent condition, full the wardrobes with new clothes, underwear, shoes, big bags with makeup supplies she could not afford earlier are everywhere in the room. The bottles of perfume. Jewellery.  
"I'll kill you, Raymond Red Reddington!" She pokes his chest with forefinger hard and gives an accusing glance:  
"Tell me all this was paid with MY money."  
"Of course," - Red bows his head, and there is a shade of mixed offence, satisfaction, challenge and approval in his eyes. It's amazing how it all coexists in one man in this moment. "How could you think otherwise, my dear? Although I have allowed myself to bring a modest gift in honor of the anniversary. "  
He hands her a small box, a box tied with red ribbon and Lizzie cannot not help but chuckle. Red always stays true to himself. There is little women watch inside, simple and elegant, matching her hand, matching her true self, not pretentious, not luxurious, but certainly expensive for its simple, smooth, laconic lines. The watch.  
"Time is precious." - Says Lizzie and reaches out her hand for him to fasten the watch. He takes the watch and puts on gently, then caresses the back of her palm and leaves a kiss, and she hears a soft whisper behind them. The same whisper do people that had got in the center of the storm, but now it is over and they can make a move, breathe and realize that they`re alive. Lizzie thinks Red makes such an impression on everyone and she can finally breathe out too.  
Stylists and hairdressers laugh quietly when Red turns to them with a wink and says, shaking his head:  
"She is always so jealous of what belongs to her."  
Sometimes you can rip old skin with one move. Now it`s the moment.  
"Oh yeah, my dear." – she takes him by his arm for the first time and presses herself to his shoulder playfully, wondering whether she plays this performance for the audience, or for herself, or maybe that is not a performance at all. "I am indeed." - And leads him to the dining room. No matter she wears a simple home t-shirt and jeans, not an evening dress, the watch at her hand is worth it all.  
If Red is surprised, he doesn`t show it. At the moment, that is just what she needs.

They are going to have the first meeting in a week. It's like the first promo ball, and Lizzie is looking for an appropriate dress meticulously. Her wardrobes are full of expensive, flawless and beautiful dresses, so the point is to get something suitable for the mood. The head bursts with myriads of phrases from the file she has been learning by heart for eternity, it's not just an entertaining trip, this is the very first ball, where she will be officially presented, but she is high-spirited.

She learns to dance. The music is modern, fast, initially she dances with Dembe, because Red is sitting near buried in his papers, they laugh, stepping on each other's feet, sometimes on purpose. Red finally looks up from his file, sadly shaking his head, sets the papers aside, remove studs and unbuttons cuffs, rolling to the elbows, and gets up, replacing Dembe:  
"You break my heart with your so ‘called dancing."  
Dembe snorts, grins, and walks to the dining room to pour himself whiskey. Cat cuddles up to him, stuck to his legs and purring like a motor vehicle. Cats love Dembe. Cats are never wrong, she thinks and returns to the reality.  
Red is an excellent dancer. The music flowing from an old record player is totally modern, sharp and trenchant, beating like a heart, but still Red can handle it. Is there anything at all he cannot control? He dances perfectly, feeling the rhythm, but controlling everything, every movement, every moment. Time, Lizzie thinks, glancing at the watch on her wrist, that's the point, you have to be out of it to appreciate the time. Has she become the part of endless and immortal world of his own?

They stand in the middle of the crowded hall. There are rich, very rich, and simply indecent rich people around them. They could feed the starving children in Africa for the whole year for the jewelry on the necks of the women here. She holds Red's arm, he smells of sandalwood and leather and confidence, his scent mixes with her, Lizzie is nervous, enough to keep her head high and look confident. She wears black-and-white pantsuit, her thoughts are tangled into a knot of contradictions - black and white, good and evil - the scarf on her shoulder is embroidered with bright red pomegranate grains, the pattern repeats Red's tie exactly, she cannot divide their images in her mind, somehow they seem to merge into a new one, unified, solid and new.  
Red brings her to another couple, this one is for sure from the major league ruling the world from a dark corner, and introduces her:  
"Good evening, Gordon. Eve. This is my ..."  
Lizzie hears the sounds of the music, the same one they were dancing to, strong, like a heartbeat, and Lizzie reaches out first:  
"Elizabeth Keene. His partner. "- She interrupts Red. "Nice to meet you. Gordon. Eve."  
Everything falls into place now. It is as it should be.  
The singer's voice from behind merges with a quiet whisper in her head:  
«Make me a bird, I`ll fly with you ...» - and Lizzie smiles. Wide. Dazzling. Sincerely.


	2. Mirrors and shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I`m still not a fan of actions and diving into the symbolism and psychology of Lizzie`s behaviour, please be tolerant.  
> If you see any mistakes, feel free to tell about them.   
> If you like it, please leave feedbacks, it really inspires)

Just a year and a half ago if someone came in front of Elizabeth Keen and told her that she will run away with one of most wanted criminals of the FBI's list, and not the last on that list, she would have laughed in his face. Her life has always been what she believed to be right, appropriate. Appropriate job, appropriate marriage, appropriate relationship ..  
But now she carefully smoothes folds of the evening dress - perfect life requires attention to details - and watches Red through the mirror, he stands with his back to her and leans his elbows on the balustrade of the balcony. It seems that his attention is totally absorbed by something happening on the street, he took off his jacket and stays in a vest, his shirt cuffs rolled up to the elbows, his posture relaxed, legs crossed, he cups his chin with the hand, and Lizzie doesn`t see his face, just the back. She leans forward on the ottoman in front of the mirror, crosses her legs and repeats his position, the only difference is that her gaze is not wandering but stays fixed on him, and she is caught in some endless vicious circle. With their backs to each other, separated by the space of the room, they are still tied, more than if their fingers were intertwined in a waltz round.  
She doesn’t want him to turn around. She does not want to ruin the magic of this moment, frozen in time, shiver runs between the shoulder blades, and this strange fragile sensation will disappear if she moves just a little.  
It's not an affection or rapture, fascination or harmony; sometimes she does not know what this feeling is. Perhaps there is a little bit of everything in it. Or maybe it's something completely different.  
"Have you ever heard that if you shine a flashlight into the sky, its light will never fade away? People who did this will eventually die, and the light will continue wandering through the universe, thousands of stars will reflect it and it shatters in the end, but you never knows whether it will dim, or vice versa. "- Red seems to be talking to himself, voice is low and hoarse, his head bowed.  
As if charmed Lizzie also tilts her head, she merely listens to him, sometimes she thinks these words are not meant to her, but her mind absorbs them as a sponge. That`s Red's best talent – his tales are always something personal, important, but hidden under easy nonchalance of tone.  
"But will the light be able to return eventually? If it can`t disappear, sooner or later, will it come back? "- She doesn’t know why she says it, perhaps under the influence of the moment. Red turns around, she repeats his movement again, but the harmony of their reflecting each other fluctuates and breaks, and Lizzie sees he is smiling.  
"Maybe." - Red shrugs, still smiling, then excuses himself and disappears to change clothes for dinner.  
Lizzie goes to the balcony; she stands there repeating his pose, leans on the balustrade and crosses legs, playing with a shoe, the desire to roll up nonexistent sleeves is unbearable...and then what? Will she understand him? Or become someone like him? She turns her head, looking to the left, and suddenly sees the reflection of already empty ottoman and the mirror, it is reflected in another mirror standing at the balcony next to hers. She imagines herself a few minutes earlier, a knot of hair and dark blue dress, thin necklace on the neck and that intense look sliding down her spine, and suddenly understands why she felt shiver running between the shoulder blades. They will always see each other.  
"You ready?" - There is a knock at the door.  
"Yes, I'm coming." - She steps away from the balcony, with one strong movement, like a swimmer entering the water and holds her breath, moving to the door. She is ready. Of course, she is ready.

They sit in the dark. Even the lamp above their table is turned off. But the waiter brought the candle, and chaotic quivering flame leaves shadows on Red's face, making it absolutely unreadable. He looks tired, but within a moment the expression changes to predatory and dangerous, then it is replaced by thoughtfulness, shadows dancing in the corners of his mouth, creating a semblance of a smile curve, and Lizzie cannot take her eyes off his lips. She wants to solve his riddle while he is all immersed in thoughts.  
They have a deal. She doesn’t interfere with his business as long as he doesn’t interfere with hers. He helps her as long as she helps him, although Lizzie knows that his desire to protect her and stay close won`t disappear, even if she points the gun at his chest and pulls the trigger with a smile. There is something disturbing and unpleasant in this thought, so she stares at him, then hides the light of the candle under the palm, and shadows seem to attack Red's face, devouring it as if it is his true self - dark, gloomy, all of sharp corners and deep crease at the mouth.  
She removes her hand, and the light comes back to his face, shadows retreat, hiding in the corners of his mouth. Her fingers are almost translucent in candlelight, as if she is filled with light.  
Lizzie looks up and sees him looking at her. His eyes, framed by blond eyelashes, are dark, pupils are dilated, the look is so impenetrable as if hidden under dense shell, shadow in the right corner of his mouth cannot hide a tiny smile.  
"I was thinking about the light." - She doesn`t want to talk about business now, after two glasses of wine and newfound ally, who signed a contract that lies between them, but a little bit aside - as if it is very important for them, but not as much as the candle in the middle - casting light on their faces and making them the only participants in tonight`s play. -"You said that the light wandering through the universe will never fade away."  
She plays fingers above the flame and shadows jump wildly on her arms, face, appearing and disappearing. Darkness absorbs her face, she dives in it as a swimmer drowns under the water, but the light shines on his face, eyelashes, hair, the same light that makes her face look predatory and dangerous, reveals his other self, only younger and carefree, smiling out of the corner of his mouth . Then everything changes. With one move of the wrist she turns them into reverse reflections. Now she radiates the light - from almost translucent fingertips over the flame up to a soft halo of hair. Shadows surge his face, it is dark and hidden with only pale eyelashes still gold.  
It`s a great game that blurs the lines, and returns this strange sense of connection, just like when they watched each other in different mirrors.  
"Yes, Lizzie, I said so." - Red nods, blinking. Blonde lashes make his gaze surprisingly vulnerable.  
From behind Lizzie hears a light hum of men`s voices, soft sounds of music, noises and the clink of glasses, but it doesn’t reach them crashing on the invisible wall that surrounds their table.  
"Then, when it comes back, reflected from the stars, will there still be someone who needs it?"  
"He will always be." - Responds Red and reaching for a glass, at this very moment light fills his face, and Lizzie clearly sees his expression - a quiet determination. That is the face of a man ready to go to the mat. Of a man who has no more fear.  
"All right then." - Lizzie takes her hand away from the candlelight, reaches for her glass and clinks it with Red`s with a loud noise, then takes a sip of drink.  
Now when the flame of a candle illuminates them both, the difference between lights and shadows is blurred, they no longer divided. They are the same.  
Completely.


End file.
